Eight weeks… It’s been eight weeks since you had been inside her, eight weeks since you had her ankles over your shoulders, eight weeks since you had last wrapped your hand tightly around her neck. Nearly every night now, you take your cock in your hand and remembered the last time you made her cum on your cock, the last time you buried yourself in her ass, wrapping her hair around your hand and pulling her back like a toy you would use to fuck yourself.
And you were fucking stressed out. As an essential worker, you still had to go out in public doing your job that had regulations for social distancing but each job had it’s needs where being six feet apart from your coworkers was not practical, like being in that fucking truck with them. Your job prevents you from having a convenient bathroom during the day but it’s even less convenient since you can’t rely on gas stations and restaurants to allow you to come in and pee when you grabbed a drink or some food. It’s fucking scary and she’s not making it any easier on you by requiring you to shelter apart. You get it. She is trying to follow rules, which is surprising for a brat, but what the fuck ever. You can’t help it during these especially dark moments when what you need the most is to work out these frustrations. And who better to do that with than the one who allows you to fuck her as roughly as you need to till you feel better? You take your hardening cock in your hand and close your eyes, fantasizing about meeting your own needs.
It’s late, pitch black outside, and you can see her sitting on the couch texting and watching tv. You’re standing on the back porch watching through the big window in the back door, where there is no chance of light giving you away. You have secretly been pissed off your whole relationship that she took so little care with security at her house, seemingly trusting other people to make good decisions. That’s something that you both love and hate about her. Her firearms are practically worthless when the enemy is the one who told her where best to stash them for access if someone ever broke in when she was at home. You watch her sitting on the couch in a pair of pajama pants and a thin tank top, practically spilling out of the top. You hear your phone vibrate and step away from her back door to read the text she sent.
*Gnight. I love you. Sweet dreams!*
You grin and reply before stuffing your phone back into your pocket. You go back to watching her but she’s not getting up to head to her room. Instead, you see her stretch her legs out on the couch, feet pointed towards your hiding behind the back door. She places a pillow between her back and the armrest. If there was any light behind you at all, she’d only need to glance up to see you but with the light of her iPad shining on her face, you know you’ll not be seen. She puts in her earbuds and in moments she is squirming in her seat. She sits up higher and leans the iPad on the couch beside her, freeing up her hands, which go right for her covered nipples, only recently pierced just as the pandemic was being taken seriously in the US. The small amount of light casted on her exaggerates shadows, causing her nipples to look noticeably erect, even from twenty feet away. You see her gently rub them in circles, her hip movements becoming more regular. She pulls the straps down her arms and frees them. You find yourself lick your lips, wanting to nibble on her large adorned nipples. Her hands wander over her chest to her neck, her fingertips lightly touching skin, giving her tiny shivers.
Her hands make their way down across her soft belly and under her waistband. You see her readjust and her legs spread, her hand disappearing inside her pajama pants. Her eyes are locked on the screen, as her hips squirm. She’s clearly enjoying herself, her hands readjusting to reach even deeper into her pants. Your attention is so focused on her, you hardly notice yourself step forward, placing one hand on the doorframe, the other around your hardness. Her hands are moving more frantic, her hips grinding up to meet her fingers. You pump your cock in sync with her movements, your gaze taking in her uninhibited beauty, how she lets her guard down when no one is around. Her head is back, eyes shut, lips slightly parted until she begins gasping. You know it’s not long now and prepare yourself to cum with her. You are both right on the edge. She doesn’t slow down now, her hips moving faster and you rush to follow her lead. You both tense up almost simultaneously, she pitches forward, you hold on to the doorframe tighter as you shoot your load. Both your bodies shutter as you ride out waves of pleasure. As she comes down her hands slide back out of her waistband and you can see from the faint light how shiny her fingers are and you give a gasp when she licks her fingers clean. Luckily she still had her earbuds in or she would have heard you let out a moan. You do love to see her taste herself.
After a few moments of recovery, she finally heads for her bedroom, not even checking to see if her doors are locked. The anger at her lack of awareness that had subsided flared up again. She has to be taught a lesson to take care of herself. No, she has to be taught a lesson to take care of your toys. You lean back against the deck railing impatiently waiting for her to get ready for bed. The sound of her fan click on lets you know she’s seconds from being in bed, nestled between all her pillows. Taking your boots off outside, you try the handle knowing it would be unlocked and slip inside. You take your time, careful to not make a sound, focusing on stealthily maneuvering between her furniture and occasionally squeaky floorboards. You slip nearly soundlessly down the hall, turning at the end, grateful for those blue eyes you claim allow you to see in the dark better than darker eyes.
You stand in her doorway, your eyes adjusted well enough to see her nestled between four pillows, lining her body like she was snuggled in the between two other people. Now that’s a fantasy you’d love to make happen. You give your head a small shake, erasing that fantasy for the one you’re about to make come true. As you creep closer you see she’s facing you, her right arm and leg thrown over the pillows. With your attention focused on her, you don’t notice the lap desk on the floor and kick it with your big toe. It taps the wall just loud enough to be heard over the fan. She raises up and looks in your direction, listening for whatever disturbed her near sleep, but only for a second before she hops back out of bed and shimmies out of her pajamas. “Much better,” you hear her whisper before tucking herself back in. You grin, knowing she has absolutely no clue how she just removed the most difficult barrier between us.
You don’t know how long you stay there and watch her fall asleep, but it’s long enough that your eyes have fully adjusted to the dark and you can see her face clearly to tell when she falls into deep sleep. You quickly arrange the items you’ll need within reach and grin evilly when you remember something she ordered to use a while back, wondering if she ever used it. You dig out the tube out of its hiding place, for once glad she’s an organization freak, and open it, finding she indeed has used it.
Once you have everything set up where you need it, you pull your knife out of your pocket, one you worked on carefully thinking about this moment. You don’t want to accidentally maim her, but if you did, you know it would be completely her own fault for leaving herself so vulnerable. You smile at that word, vulnerable. It’s your least favorite of her traits because you worry about her when you’re not here to protect her, but at the same time it’s your most favorite because it allows you to have incredible power over her.
You glance at the floor, not willing to make another mistake that would further delay your impending attack. She’s now on her belly, one arm already captured under a pillow with the other one laying limply across the top. The knife in your right hand, your left hand grabs the back of her neck, pushing her face into the pillow. Her free hand grasps your forearm desperately and her feet kick fruitlessly, only succeeding in removing the covers, leaving herself fully exposed. You run the tip of your knife down her side and she freezes, except for the smallest of shivers that she can’t control. You take your hand off her head knowing her fear has taken over. Grinning, you run the knife up and down her body, enjoying the involuntary shivers and slight gasps that she can’t hold back. Her legs are spread and you dip the knife down to touch her most sensitive areas. “No,” escapes almost soundlessly from her mouth but you continue carefully slipping the blade between her folds. You are pleased when you see the tip of your knife is covered with her white cream. You lick it off, tasting her cum, the cum she had without permission. Grasping the blade that you dulled just for this occasion, allowing the tip enough point to just illicit the image of sharpness, you slide the handle up and down between her wet lips. Her back arches as you slowly insert it, the coldness of the metal handle exacerbates the intrusion. You twist it as you slide it in and out of her, the curves of the contoured handle pressing against the walls, searching for that spot. You know you found it when her legs seize up and she moans into her pillow. You push it in deep enough that her lips close over the hilt and hold the knife handled buried inside of her. You know she’s too frightened to move. Hell, she’s hardly made a peep and you’re finding that even more sexy than if she was screaming and pleading with you.
You reach for the small tube and squeeze out a small pearl of vanilla scented cream onto your finger. You reach under the knife and are surprised to find her normally elusive clit engorged and erect. You apply the cream there and rub more of it on her lips. An evil thought crosses your mind and you slide the knife out of her and coat it with another dollop. In seconds it begins to work, extreme coolness rushes over everywhere the cream was applied. You slide the knife back inside of her and coat her insides with the sensitivity cream. “Oh my God,” she exclaims as you begin to rub her clit again. Every sensation is now tenfold. Her fingers grasp the sheet below her as she begins a losing battle against herself. You work the knife faster, careful to watch exactly when she’s just close enough to the edge before you stop. Your hand and knife are immediately removed and she lays gasping in shock.
Her cum earlier without permission flashes into your head and you grab your belt, lashing it across her rear over and over again. You reach below her and rub her clit vigorously while your belt continues to assault her. She’s silently crying into a pillow, her body confusing her brain by extreme pain and pleasure simultaneously. She cums all over your hand as you repeatedly belt her, finally crying out with the effort of contradicting emotions. She lays spent in a puddle of her own wetness, the pleasure over now and only pain as your belt teaches her a lesson she didn’t expect to learn.
You allow yourself to be out of control just for a moment longer, then throw the belt to the side. You pull her down to the edge of the bed, remove the knife handle, and flip her over on her back. Eyes squeezed shut, you enjoy the fear on her face while the rest of her body has resolved itself to being taken against her will. You line yourself up and plunge your thickness into her. All the lubrication in the world would not make this violation easy on her. She came so hard that you can feel her muscles still contracting around you unsuccessfully trying to push you out. You grab her hips and hold her in place, as she cries out from the invasion. Eight weeks… it was like your first time with her again, when you had to gently work her up to take your size, but this time there will be no gentle stretching, no slow foreplay to make sure she’s comfortable. You’re taking back what’s yours, what she hasn’t been protecting like she should, what she’s been playing with and finding pleasure that was expressly forbidden. You imagine all those times when she told you goodnight first, that she was giving her cum to some fucking erotica or whatever porn she was using to get herself off, not to you, her Daddy.
All of this anger… you are going to take it out on her. Without warning you flip her over onto her belly again and your fingers dip into her wetness and begin rubbing it around her other entrance, the one she doesn’t allow you to have often, the only thing she seems to protect. She comes back to life here and scrambles away from you up the bed but you grab her hair before she gets too far and climb on top of her. You push your cock against the entrance and she screams into a pillow. Here’s where you would normally tell her to just relax and take it but not tonight. You push harder, enjoying the fight, knowing she’ll be even tighter around you. You grab a handful of each of her bruised cheeks and separate them. You want to watch the moment when her body gives up, the moment it accepts you. Spit drips down on her hole, not for her comfort but your own. One more hard push and it gives to your force. You don’t waste any time and begin plunging in and out violating her now limp body. She’s finally accepted her fate as your fuck doll, crying softly into her pillow. To break her one final time you reach below and press your fingers against her clit. Each stroke builds you both closer to orgasm, one wanted and one unwanted. You feel her body below you tense up one final time, squeezing you tightly. Knowing she’s close you pump faster and harder. Her whimpers have become moans between her sobs. You release when you feel her bear down. Every ounce of your anger is pumped into her body, leaving behind nothing but a calmness you’ve not experienced for eight weeks.
Once the fog begins to lift, you climb off and lay down beside her. Taking her in your arms, you are grateful for someone who understands your needs so well. Her head rests on your chest and you push her hair behind her ear and tilt her face up to you, giving her kisses on her forehead and around her face. God she’s beautiful when she cries. It’s your turn to provide the aftercare she needs. You wrap her shaking body up in a soft blanket and hold her as she cries her frustrations out. To the outside eye it looks like you’ve left her traumatized. To the trained eye you’ve helped her release emotions she has to compartmentalizes until she’s able to deal with them. Her sobs have dissolved into sniffles and an arm frees itself to hold on to you. She wiggles herself up your body so her nose touches your neck and you feel her take a cleansing breath as the remaining tenseness disappears. “Thank you Daddy. I love you.” “I love you too.” You kiss the top of her head again and you both fall asleep, more relaxed than either of you’ve been in eight weeks.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jdsifw/breaking_quarantine_mf_dark_cnc_masturbation_anal
You should feel ashamed making Daddy wait so long.